Somewhere in Between
by TheGryfter
Summary: The immediate aftermath of Finn interrupting Rachel's unexpected, but thrilling kiss with Brody. Is this truly the end for Finn and Rachel? Or can their love get a second chance?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hey guys. Wanted to get this up before the next ep airs tonight, because it takes place immediately after Rachel opens the door to find Finn standing there, with Brody in the apartment behind her.

Apologies if the time swings are confusing. Think of it this way - chapter 1 takes place 3 hours and 50 minutes after she opens the door, then chapter two flashes back to immediately after she opened the door. Chapter 3 follows chapter 1, and chapter 2 follows chapter 4, and so on...

God, that didn't help at all, did it? Anyway, I think you'll get it if you just read on.

It's been a trying few weeks. For personal reasons, I haven't written a thing for 3 weeks. That's a lifetime for me. Then, last night, I was listening to Lifehouse's _Somewhere in Between_, and I knew I was ready to write again.

This fic, like every other Glee fic I have ever, and will ever write... is for Sammy...

**.**

* * *

**glee**

**.**

**somewhere in between**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**1. Now.**

_._

_I can't be losing sleep over this,_

_No, I can't. _

_And now I cannot stop pacing._

_Give me a few hours,_

_I'll have this all sorted out. _

_If my mind would just stop racing._

.

.

.

Magic.

For Finn Hudson, that was the only word for it.

Pure magic.

It had to be. Magic was the unexpected. The spectacular miracle that slit the veil of your reality and filled it with dancing wonder. If you had asked him 3 hours and 47 minutes ago if this moment would even be a possibility, he would have thought you were crazy.

But it _was_ happening. And he was losing himself in the magic of it.

"Why are you standing all the way over there?"

Her voice snapped him from his trance, and he grinned. Taking his hand from the light-switch, he quickly – so quickly – crossed to sit beside her on the bed. It scrunched under his weight, and she bounced a little. She giggled.

"You put on weight," she said.

"All muscle," he assured her, "Lotta training in the Army."

"I can tell."

She slipped a hand under his shirt and he forgot to breathe. She ran her fingertips – deliciously soft and cool – over the ridged muscles of his stomach, and he decided he never wanted to breathe again. Not if it would break this spell. Not if it banished the magic.

"3 hours and 49 minutes."

She drew back slightly, her brow crinkling into a frown, and he realised he'd spoken out loud.

"What?"

"Sorry," he said, "I was just thinking… 3 hours and 49 minutes ago, I never would have believed that you and me would end up here."

"You mean, when you walked in on–?"

"Exactly."

"Look, Finn…" she said, pulling her hand back, "I think we should talk about–"

"No!"

He clutched at the hand – like a drowning man lunging for a life rope.

"We don't need to talk about it," he insisted, "Ever."

"But you just looked so… hurt."

Finn couldn't say what he'd looked like, but hurt was an understatement to how he felt. But that was then. 3 hours and 50 minutes ago. Before the magic.

.

.

.


	2. Chapter 2

**2. Then.**

_._

_Coz I cannot stand still._

_I can't be this unsteady._

_This cannot be happening..._

.

.

.

_3 hours and 50 minutes ago._

_._

_._

_._

"_Finn…"_

_That was the first thing she said. His name. A bare whisper, tinged with shock and regret. _

_He didn't respond. His eyes were locked over her shoulder, at the man who was self-consciously straightening his shirt. His gaze met Finn's, and Finn caught a hint of… something… in it. _

_Anger?_

_Resentment?_

_Pick one, it didn't matter. _

_Finn had just felt the bottom fall out of his world. _

"_Finn, what are you doing here?"_

_Only now did he look at Rachel again. Her expression was slack, but her eyes were wide. Frightened eyes. Expecting an explosion. _

"_I came to see you."_

_It was the obvious answer – and the truth – but it was all he could think to say. _

_Her head dropped slightly, and her shoulders hunched up. Just a bit. She took a breath. He knew that posture – just like he knew everything else about her. She was gathering herself – sifting through the myriad thoughts that at that moment must have been pouring through that busy mind of hers. _

_Finn decided to cut to the chase. _

"_Are you going to introduce me to your… friend?"_

_She stiffened, but she lifted her chin and met his eye again. Her expression moved from slack to defiant as she drew on her inner strength. _

_She had so much of it, he knew. _

"_This is Brody," she said, taking a step back, and making a sweeping gesture with her arm – like the ballerina she was, "We go to school together."_

_Finn nodded, and stepped past her. _

_As he approached Brody, Finn saw him tense. His eyes narrowed as Finn lifted his hand. But Finn stopped a couple feet short and just held it there, palm extended. _

"_Hi," he said. _

_Brody hesitated for a second, then shook his hand. _

"_You must be the graffiti guy," he said. _

"_What?"_

_Brody flicked his eyes past Finn, to Rachel, and Finn followed the move. He caught Rachel determinedly shaking her head. Finn knew some silent communication had passed between them in that moment, but decided not to question it. _

_Instead, he said, "Rachel and I know each other from back home." _

"_Right," said Brody, _"Home."

_Finn was struggling to find some kind of equilibrium. Was he reading too much into every gesture? Every nuance? Had Brody really placed a strange emphasis on the word _home?

"_When did you get into town?' asked Rachel. _

_Her footsteps clicked on the hardwood floor as she stepped smartly in between the two men. Finn noticed she was wearing thigh-high boots with aggressive heels. And a tight skirt. And an even tighter grey top. She also wore more make-up than usual and her hair was different. _

_He didn't even need to look at the impromptu pizza and champagne picnic on the floor to know what was going on. _

"_About an hour ago," he said, "I came straight over, but I got a bit lost finding the place. I should have called. I'm sorry I interrupted."_

"_You didn't interrupt anything," she said, a little too quickly. _

_Again, a sharp glance from Brody, and Finn saw his mouth draw into a tight line. _

_His heart – against all expectation – sank even lower. _

"_Yes, I did…" he said._

_Swiftly, he turned on his heel, and made for the door. _

"_Wait!" Rachel called after him, "Where are you going?"_

"_I'm sorry," Finn said, again, "Tell Kurt I stopped by, okay?"_

_He'd spent the past few months of his life undergoing the most extreme physical torture. Running until his legs wouldn't support him anymore and he threw up from exhaustion. Being dragged from sleep minutes after he'd drifted off, only to pick up his 30 pound pack and run again. Crawling through thick bracken in the pouring rain as his hands and face were shredded by thorns. Swimming rivers so wide they might as well have been oceans and he dreamt of drowning. _

_All so he could be what his dad had been. _

_A soldier. _

_A man who stood up for what he believed in, and faced the demons that others scurried from. _

_A man who looked into the face of chaos, and did not tremble. _

_A man who would never run. _

_And yet, here he was. Mere days after earning the uniform. _

_And he was running away. _

_._

_._

_._


	3. Chapter 3

**3. Now.**

_._

_This is over my head,_

_But underneath my feet. _

_Coz by tomorrow morning, _

_I'll have this thing beat._

_And everything will be back,_

_To the way that it was. _

_I wish that it was just that easy._

_._

_._

_._

"I hurt you," said Finn.

"That's not true."

"Yes, it is. I made you leave, and I'm sorry."

"You're right," she said, "We shouldn't talk about this."

He found a smile for her. "You want something to drink?"

"I'll get it," she rose to her feet, "There's still some champagne."

She crossed to the area demarcated as the kitchenette. It was in a corner, but there wasn't even a dividing wall. Just a counter and a stove.

"I like your place," said Finn, "It's… interesting."

"Oh, is that the word for it?" she flashed him a grin from across the room.

In truth, it was just one big open space. The only allusion to privacy being the curtain that closed off Kurt's bed, on which he now sat. There were couch cushions, but no couches. Lamps. Different sections of wall painted different colours, and others left with the bare brick exposed. In Finn's mind, it's exactly what a New York apartment should look like.

"Is this what you were talking about?" he asked.

"When?' asked Rachel, bringing him a glass filled with gently bubbling liquid.

"When you talked about living in a little shoebox apartment?"

"This is exactly what I meant," said Rachel, "Yes, it's cramped. And at night it gets pretty cold. And you can hear the train like it's going right over you. But it's…"

"Perfect," he finished for her.

She flushed, and her grin was fixed. Delighted. Meant for him.

She held up her glass. He clinked it with his own.

"Perfect," she said.

"So, tell me about it."

"Tell you what?"

"Everything. School. Life in this city. Everything."

"I don't know where to start," said Rachel, "NYADA isn't exactly what I expected, but… it's great. I'm learning every day. And the students there are so full of ambition, and dreams. And even with the worst teachers, you get that they want to help us achieve those dreams."

"That's awesome."

"That's why I can never hate you for it," said Rachel, "For sending me here. You were right. I couldn't put my dreams – my life – on hold. It was here waiting for me. In the hot dogs at Grays-Papaya and the homeless guy who sleeps in the lobby who can't stop singing _It's A Wonderful World._" She laughed, and her eyes grew distant for a second, "It's in the childish way tourists stop on the street to point out something they saw in the movies. The way moms manage to push a stroller with a screaming baby through the park while they drink their coffee and talk on the phone at the same time. It's in the way the streetlights look like candles in the steam coming from the grates when you walk down Park Avenue at night. That's where I found it… my life… just waiting."

"I'm glad," said Finn.

Leaning forward, he set his glass on the floor. He shifted on the bed, bringing one leg up so he was facing her. He reached out and stroked her cheek.

He remembered that feeling – the silk of her skin.

"I can see it in your eyes," he said, "A light that wasn't there before. You're exactly where you were always meant to be."

"And you?" she asked, "Are you exactly where you were meant to be?"

He didn't answer. He just kissed her.

.

.

.


	4. Chapter 4

**4. Then.**

_._

_Coz I'm waiting for tonight._

_Been waiting for tomorrow. _

_And I'm somewhere in-between._

_What is real and just a dream?_

.

.

.

_Finn took the stairs two at a time. Rachel and Kurt's apartment was on the third floor, but a few flights of narrow, rickety New York steps had nothing on a Georgia bog and he was in the lobby seconds after bolting out of the apartment. _

_He stepped smartly over the homeless man curled up halfway across the threshold and hit the streets. A chill early-Fall bite was in the air, and he sucked in a deep breath, relishing the cold as it struck his throat. _

_He turned right, then stopped. Then turned back the other way, then stopped. He couldn't remember which direction he'd come from. _

_Not that it mattered. He had nowhere to go. _

_He shut his eyes, breath heaving, trying to figure out what to do next. He was standing like that for about five seconds when the loud roar of a passing truck caused him to jump and huddle up close to the wall. _

"_Get a grip, Hudson!" he chided himself. _

_He rocked his head from side to side, cracking the tense muscles in his neck in an effort to dispel the tension that had slid like an iron rod down his spine. It didn't work. _

_Screw it! Time to move!_

_He turned left, and set off up the street. He didn't know Brooklyn at all. Like he'd told Rachel, he'd gotten lost trying to find the place. When the McKinley Glee Club came to New York for Nationals their junior year, they'd stayed in Midtown. They simply hadn't had enough time to explore the neighbourhoods on this side of the river. _

_Finn kept his eye out for a sign pointing to a subway. He knew the subway would have maps telling him how to get back to Manhattan. The analytical part of his brain told him that he'd be better served trying to find a motel here in Brooklyn. It would be cheaper, certainly. But Finn felt a need to put as much distance between himself and Rachel and her boy toy as possible. _

_Brody!_

_Even the smarmy idiot's name made Finn's hackles rise. _

_Again, that analytical side of him was preaching that he had no right to be angry. Or upset. Or anything. _

_But that didn't squelch his desire to start punching stop signs. In fact…_

_Finn took two quick steps to the edge of the sidewalk, sighting on the bright red octagon looming before him and swung. His fist connected with the outer edge of the sign, and there was a squeal of tortured metal as it bent inward. _

_He didn't feel a thing. And that, for some reason, hurt more than anything. _

_He planted his hand flat on the bent sign and leaned forward, gasping for breath as adrenaline flooded his body. He felt almost unbearably sad. _

"_What did you do that for?"_

_Finn swung at the sound of the voice. Rachel, now bundled up in a stylish black coat, was hustling up the sidewalk toward him. Finn didn't answer, but he straightened up, stepping away from the sign. _

"_I'm serious," said Rachel, as she came close, "What did the sign ever do to you?"_

"_It was there," said Finn. _

"_You shouldn't have run out like that."_

"_I didn't want to… um…" he faltered. _

_She cocked an eyebrow. "What?" Still, he didn't answer. "What?" she asked again. _

"_I didn't want to get in the way."_

_She sighed and shook her head, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear before folding her arms. The gesture was self-conscious and defensive. It looked like she was shrinking in on herself. _

"_Look, just… tell me how to get to the subway," he said, "And I'll be out of your hair."_

"_You're just gonna go?" she said. _

"_Well, I thought…"_

"_What? That I'd just want you to leave?"_

_Finn shrugged. It seemed to piss her off, because the laugh that ripped from her throat was completely devoid of humour. _

"_You're unbelievable," she muttered. _

"_Look, Rachel, you don't have to lie to me," he said, "I know what was going on up there. That was a date. And that's fine. You're moving on. You were supposed to move on. I have no right to come back here and interrupt your life."_

"_Shut up…" she said it so softly, still not looking at him, that for a second he wasn't sure he'd heard her right. _

"_I mean it, I can be on the next train out of New York. Then you can go back to school, and your new life, and–"_

"_Shut up!"_

_This time she screamed it, and he took a step back, shocked. She was glaring at him. The glow of the streetlights caught the flecks in her eyes and seemed to set them aflame. _

"_I–"_

"_You think I care about that?" she hissed, "You think I care about school, or Brody, or this city, or my so-called new life right now? I haven't spoken to you for months! For months, Finn! And then you just show up at my door and then bolt a minute later? What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you so determined to hurt me, Finn?"_

"_Rache, that's not what I–"_

_He took a hurried step toward her, but she threw up a hand, stopping him. She had the beginnings of tears in her eyes, but that fire was still there. _

"_You know what? Maybe you're right," she said, "Maybe you should just leave. The thing about not having you in my life anymore, is that I don't have to feel this way!"_

_This time, she walked away from him. _

_._

_._

_._


	5. Chapter 5

**5. Now.**

_._

_What is real and just a dream?_

_What is real and just a dream?_

_What is real and just a dream?_

.

.

.

Rachel broke the kiss.

She didn't push him away, just shook her head gently. Their lips drifting apart as if blown by a gust of wind.

Finn opened his eyes and looked at her. She was so close. He could feel the heat of her breath on his lips. Smell the lingering champagne. He imagined he could hear the restless rhythm of her heart.

And her eyes…

He was determined to lose himself in them, and never be found again.

With a level of control he didn't think he was capable of, he pulled back.

"Sorry," he said, "I shouldn't have–"

"No, it's okay," she said, "I don't–"

"It was too quick. I got caught up in the moment, and I–"

"So did I, it's just–"

"Maybe we should…"

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

The silence that followed was pure torture. Rachel shifted on the edge of the bed, plucking at the hem of her pyjama top. Finn desperately wanted to break the tension. Say something to fill the gap that he could see opening up between them.

But he had no words.

He just sat there, silently cursing himself.

Suddenly, Rachel stood. She moved across the floor to a blank wall that looked like any of the other blank walls. This was one was painted white. Or, rather, it was half painted – just a large patch that stood out stark against the grey wall.

Finn watched her, curious, as she lifted a hand and let it slowly drift down the length of the patch. Then she stared at her fingers, idly rubbing the tips together like she was trying to clean them off.

He stood and slowly approached her. He could see her tense with each footstep. He stopped, some distance short, and just stood there. Not willing to interrupt whatever private thoughts were drifting through her mind.

The silence was heavy now, like a cloak damp from the rain. Pressing down on them. But Finn didn't want to be the one to break it.

Eventually, Rachel tilted her head, still facing the wall, and spoke. "I erased you," she said.

Finn was confused. "What?"

"I put your name up here," she told him, "Kurt and I were decorating, and I… I drew a heart. It was terrible, all lopsided, and I put your name in the middle. It was like… a symbol, you know? A reminder. And then I… I…"

Finn took another step. He reached out, and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. He felt her bristle at the touch.

All of a sudden, he understood. She felt guilty.

For moving on. For trying to forget about him. For trying to fill the hole he'd left in her life when he put her on that train.

And he hated himself for it.

"I'm here now," he said, turning her to face him, "I'm not some name on the wall, or even a voice on the phone. I'm here, Rachel. Right now. And I'm not going anywhere. Not ever again."

"Do you mean it?"

He was stunned by how brittle her voice was.

This girl – this woman – could belt out a song that rocked the stars in the heavens and yet, in this moment, he could sense just how close she was to losing the music forever.

Two moments struck him then. Flashes from a past so entwined with hers.

The time when he'd told her to channel her pain when she wrote. She'd taken his advice to heart, and produced a melody so haunting it still brought tears to his eyes when he thought of it.

_But how many times will it take?_

_Oh, how many times will it take for me,_

_To get it right…?_

And another… Rachel onstage far below his vantage point in the balcony. Once again in full song, as she meets his eyes. And a smile lit by the radiance of love blooms on her face.

_Here's to us,_

_Here's to love._

_Wish everybody well. _

_Here's to us..._

In both moments she shone like the star she was born to be. Breathtaking. Brilliant.

But he knew which he preferred.

The moment when she looked at him like he was the only man she could see in her dreams. He couldn't believe he'd ever risked the chance that she would never look at him that way again.

"I promise," he told her, willing her to believe that he meant it from the very depths of his being, "It's you and me, Rache. It's forever."

In a move so swift it caught him off guard, she swung her arms around his neck. He circled her waist and lifted her clear off the floor. The press of her body against him jump-started his heart and he almost choked for the joy of it.

Then she was kissing him. Urgent. Insistent. Hungry.

He met her eyes. And he was lost…

.

.

.


	6. Chapter 6

**6. Then.**

_._

_Would you catch me if,_

_I fall out of what I fell in? _

_Don't be surprised if I collapse, _

_Down at your feet again. _

_I don't want to run away from this. _

_I know that I just don't need this._

.

.

.

_Finn didn't realise he was circling the block until he passed Rachel's building for the third time. He stopped on the sidewalk and glanced up. It was a faded brownstone, and only the windows on the stairwell actually faced the street. Still, he imagined he could see her window, like the kid in that Shakespeare play where they off themselves in the end. He imagined himself standing there and declaring his undying love for her. And she'd come to the window and tell him she loved him too. And…_

_And…_

_With a heavy sigh, Finn turned around. Remembering the truck from earlier, he checked both ways before he crossed the street. He sat down on the stoop of the building opposite, cloaked in shadow. _

_He didn't know why. What he hoped to accomplish by waiting there. _

_He just sat, hugging his knees to ward off the chill, and floated away on distant memories. _

_._

"I think everyone expects us to become an item. You, the hot male lead, and me, the stunning young ingénue everyone roots for…"

.

_God… were they ever that young?_

_._

"For a while there, you were kind of all over me, and now you just yell at me all the time…"

.

_The relationship fractious from the first. _

_._

"I know being my boyfriend is a challenge. I'm not Quinn. I don't look like her, I'm not popular, and my personality – though exciting and full of surprises – isn't exactly low maintenance, but… I'll always be honest with you. Painfully so. And all I ask in return is that you're just honest with me."

.

_But they learned, and grew… together. _

_._

"Break a leg."

"I love you."

.

_Through paradise lost…_

_._

"You swore you would never break up with me!"

.

…_and heaven regained. _

_._

"Being an artist is about expressing your true feelings, in the moment, no matter what the consequences. What were you feeling in that moment?"

"That I loved you. And that I woulda… done, or… given anything to kiss you one more time."

.

_Days of pure magic that would be etched into his heart forever._

.

"You're the love of my life. And… I may not get to have it all, but… at least I'll have what matters if we're together."

"Is that a–"

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes, I will marry you."

.

_And days that still burned with the fire of regret._

_._

"You're gonna get on that train, okay? And you're gonna go to New York. And you're gonna be a star. Without me…"

.

_Finn only felt the first sob when it burst from his throat, carrying with it all the grief he'd locked away in that secret place inside himself where all his living shadows lurked. _

_Tears poured down his cheeks in a torrent. A flood that destroyed instead of cleansed. He hugged himself tighter, praying to God to give him strength, a reason, a purpose. _

_But more than anything… praying to God to turn back time. And give him one more chance. _

_Still dizzy, he looked up through his haze of tears when he heard voices. In the splash of light from the streetlamp across the street, he saw Rachel emerge from her doorway. A second later, she was followed by Brody. _

_Finn choked again. _

_They were probably off somewhere, to continue their date where they wouldn't be interrupted by ghosts from the past. _

_But then, Brody leaned forward, as if to hug her, before stopping himself. They exchanged an awkward handshake, and then the he just left. Rachel stood there for long moments, head down, not moving. _

_Finn stood up. Hastily he wiped away his tears. _

_She turned… and saw him. _

_She didn't say anything, merely beckoned for him to follow her. He did. Like he should have done months ago. _

_He followed her up the stairs like a man condemned, ascending to the gallows. _

_She opened the door to her apartment, and stepped politely aside, allowing him to enter. He stopped in the middle of the living room-slash-bedroom-slash-kitchen-slash-other bedroom and just waited. _

_Waited for her to speak. To give him some indication of what she was thinking. Feeling. _

_She said nothing. Almost robotically, she started clearing up the remnants of her picnic. First, she gathered the glasses, holding them in one hand while she scooped up the champagne with the other. She put the lot on the kitchen counter. Next, she flipped back the lids on the pizza boxes. She carried them to the bin where, with easy, practiced movements, she karate chopped them so they folded neatly in half, small enough now to jam them in the garbage. Last, she folded up the blanket and laid it over a couch cushion. _

_Only then did she turn to look at him. He hadn't moved a muscle. _

"_Why didn't you leave?" she asked._

_He shrugged, knowing how pathetic a gesture it was, but unable to help himself. _

"_I just… I couldn't," he said, "I kept circling the block. I was… lost. In the past. In memories."_

"_Is that all we have now?" her voice was dull, almost a monotone, "Memories? Is that all we are, Finn?"_

"_I hope not."_

"_But you don't know?"_

_He didn't have an answer for her. She read that in his eyes, and nodded. Sadly. _

"_You can stay here tonight," she said, "That's Kurt's bed over there. He's going to be out pretty late, maybe until dawn. He's at a party with his new colleagues."_

"_Oh yeah," said Finn, "The thing."_

_She nodded again. "Anyway, I'm sure he won't mind."_

"_Why are you doing this for me?" he asked, "Letting me stay here, I mean."_

"_You don't have anywhere else to go," she said, "And even if all we are is memories… They were great ones. And I'd never just abandon you."_

_He felt a lump form in the back of his throat, and he was scared he'd start crying again. He managed to hold it back, as Rachel gathered her nightclothes from her tiny, free-standing closet, and retreated to the bathroom to change. _

_Finn drifted over to Kurt's bed. Sitting down, he plucked off his shoes, and tugged off his sweatshirt. It was cold, with just a t-shirt on, but he ignored it. He didn't bother getting under the covers, just lay back against a soft pillow that – typical of Kurt – smelled of oranges. _

_A few moments later, he caught sight of Rachel's silhouette through the privacy curtain. A second after that, it vanished as she turned out the lights. _

"_Night, Finn," she said into the darkness. _

"_Night, Rachel."_

_._

_._

_._


	7. Chapter 7

**7. Now.**

_._

_Coz I cannot stand still._

_I can't be this unsteady. _

_This cannot be happening..._

.

.

.

Finn was terrified, and he didn't know why.

She was here, with him, and this was happening. Her lips, he was kissing. Her skin, melting into him. Her hair, tickling him like the softest feather.

She was here. It was real.

And he was terrified.

Not even their first time had been like this. Back then they were too young to know different. Too swept away to realise that love can fade. And even die.

That time it was hesitant, and clumsy, and rushed, and awkward, and frantic, and… perfect.

This time, he lingered. Stretched the moments. Willing each to last a thousand lifetimes and fill him like the breath of life.

He stared too intently. Memorizing every freckle, every curve, every spot where the candlelight danced on her caramel skin.

His kisses were too fierce. They carried too much of him. Too many secrets and longings, so they burned even as they joined them together.

He trembled as he entered her. His whole body coiled, and tensed to the point of breaking. It seemed to cut him where her nails brushed the skin of his back.

Then her eyelids fluttered open, and she smiled.

"I love you," she breathed.

It was like the clouds parting after a fierce winter storm. Sunlight poured in, bringing with it relief and joy in equal measure. He smiled back. And relaxed.

It was a dance after that.

An old familiar dance, to an old familiar song. Her body rippled under his hands. His own moulded to hers like she was sculpting him with her touch. Silent messages passed from his eyes to hers, and they moved like liquid chaos to music only they could hear.

The past was gone. Vanished like mist on a summer breeze. All those wishes and would-have-beens were lost to a history he no longer carried like a weight on his heart.

There was only the moment.

Only Rachel.

Only home.

.

.

.


	8. Chapter 8

**8. Then.**

_._

_Coz I'm waiting for tonight. _

_Then waiting for tomorrow. _

_And I'm somewhere in-between. _

_What is real and just a dream?_

.

.

.

_He couldn't sleep. Not a wink. _

_The minutes dragged by like endless days. The hours morphing into eons. _

_The thin fabric of the curtain that separated him from Rachel became an enormous chasm, stretching to the horizon, and yawning below him, so deep it reached the other end of the world. _

_Finn lost track of time. His mind misted over and, with his eyes still open, he drifted… from one regret to the next. _

_Until he heard a floorboard creak. _

_At first, he thought it was Kurt, coming home. He lifted his head and peered through the gloom, trying to make out the front door. But then he heard a soft shuffling, coming from his right. _

_A shadow appeared at the foot of the bed. So small, and fragile. _

_It was Rachel. _

_He sat up, moving back against the headboard as she eased herself onto the foot of the bed. She drew both her legs up, tucking her feet in so she sat cross-legged facing him. Like some kind of swami. _

_She didn't speak. _

_Finn didn't know what to say. _

_They watched each other in the barely-light. _

"_Why did you come here?" she asked, at last, "What happened? Did you quit the Army?"_

"_Yes," he answered. _

_He heard her breath hitch. "Why?'_

"_It's kind of a long story." _

"_I've got time."_

_He took a moment to compose his thoughts, trying to find the best way to explain. _

"_Fort Benning is where my dad was inducted," he said, "Same camp. Same instructor, even. Drill-Sergeant McKenna. It was… brutal. We're fighting two wars right now, no matter what the media says, so everything's sped up. I was serving in the O-Club one night, and–"_

"_The what?"_

"_Sorry, the Officer's Club," he explained, "It's part of our hazing, that we serve the officers like waiters when they have dinner. A couple of captains were getting drunk, and they were talking about how our basic training now is closer to what they do with Navy Seals. It has to be. Or we'd never be ready to ship off to the Middle East."_

"_Were you scared?" she asked. _

"_Every day," he admitted, "But I kept him in my mind, you know? He was a hero, and the world deserved to see him like that. Even if it was only through me."_

"_I always got that, you know?" said Rachel, "I understood why you wanted to do it. You didn't have to chase me away. I would have been there, next to you, if I could."_

"_I know," he said. _

_In the dark, he reached blindly for her hand. He felt her hesitate. Then her fingers closed around his, and the comfort he felt in that one, miniscule touch, seeped into his very bones, _

"_About a week ago, we got our spurs," he said, "It's just a slang term for graduating. A couple of the guys and me, we broke into the O-Club. There's this balcony looking out over the main floor. Kinda like the ones in the theaters we used to perform in. We went up there, and got drunk. We were laughing and telling stories. Just grateful we made it. We didn't want to think about what happens next."_

_He felt her fingers tighten around his as she gave his hand an encouraging squeeze. He managed a small smile. _

"_I had my knife on me," he went on, "It's one of those Rambo-type knives, you know? With the compass on top? I wanted to carve my name into the railing. Like Puck and I did on our desks in school. So I got on my back, and I found a spot where I figured it wouldn't be noticed, and… there it was."_

"_What?"_

"_His name. Chris Hudson."_

"_Finn…"_

"_He was there, in that same spot, and he had the exact same idea, and… that's when I realised… I'm an idiot."_

"_What?"_

_Rachel drew back her hand, confused. Finn wanted to grab it again. Ached to do it. But he stayed still. _

"_I realised I was chasing a ghost," he said, "My dad was a kid just like me. Same hopes, same dreams, and he chased them. Yeah, he messed up, but he followed his path, so… why was _I_ trying to follow it? You were here in New York, starting this exciting new life, and I was stuck trying to live one he'd already lived. I don't know if that makes any sense, but… that's when I knew, I was in the wrong place. That's when I knew I had to come find you. That's when I knew I…" _

_He trailed off. His eyes had somewhat adjusted to the darkness, but he still couldn't make out her expression. He couldn't tell if she understood what he was trying to say. _

_Then he felt her hand close around his again. _

"_That's when I knew…" he said. _

_._

_._

_._


	9. Chapter 9

**9. Now.**

_._

_What is real and just a dream?_

_What is real and just a dream?_

_What is real and just a dream?_

.

.

.

Finn woke with a start.

For a few seconds, his heart hammered as he tried to figure out where he was. The pattern on the ceiling above was unfamiliar. The dimensions of the room, even in the gathering dark, were strange. He heard the loud rumble of a truck going by on the street outside, and then he remembered…

He moaned, like a child waking from a terrible nightmare, as his heart shattered.

The motel. Queens.

He stretched his hand across the bed beside him – praying, like a man wandering in the desert, that it was more than just a mirage. More than just a dream.

But the bed was cold and empty.

Rachel wasn't there.

His chest constricted, strangling his attempts to breathe, as flashes of the dream came back to him. Then slowly, so slowly, they were painted over with memories of what really happened.

Rachel's face when she opened the door.

His own shock when he saw Brody.

His hoarse cries as he ran out of the apartment, and down the street.

The deadly hope that she would come after him.

The crushing realization that she would not.

He curled up into the fetal position, hugging the lumpy, threadbare pillow to him to catch his tears. He tried to pretend it was Rachel, but it was useless. It could never be.

He caught the blinking light of the digital clock on the bedside table. Red like blood in the dark.

3 hours and 50 minutes.

That was all.

3 hours and 50 minutes had passed since he fled from Rachel and the new man in her life.

3 hours and 50 minutes since hope died inside of him.

3 hours and 50 minutes since his world ended… and the rest of his life – without her – began…

.

.

.

The End.


End file.
